Warmth
by Pnulls
Summary: Draco wasn't ready for the warmth inside of him to disappear yet. That warmth he got whenever he was close to Potter – it really was all that was keeping him sane at this point. "Potter!" He exclaimed while watching said man leave. "Potter!" He tried again. How dared the scar head to just leave like that! Didn't he know Draco wasn't finished with him yet? Drarry One-Shot year six.


A/N: I know that I should be writing on my Damon/Bella story, but I heard this cover of Beyoncé's Crazy in Love by Sofia Karlberg, and I just fell in love with her version. If you want you can listen to it while reading it, but it's in no way mandatory.

When I heard the song, I couldn't get this Drarry story out of my mind, so I decided to write it down instead.

This is a one-shot, so it's already complete, but please let me know what you think anyway. I haven't got any real experience with writing one-shots.

English is not my first language, so any grammatical errors is my fault, and probably because I don't know any better ;)

Disclaimer: As always I don't own anything. JK Rowling owns the potter universe, I just play with it. The song belongs to Beyoncé and the version belongs to Sofia Karlberg.

* * *

 _I look and stare so deep in your eyes,_

 _I touch on you more and more every time,_

 _When you leave I'm begging you not to go,_

 _Call your name two or three times in a row,_

 _Such a funny thing for me to try to explain,_

 _How I'm feeling and my pride is the one to blame._

 _'Cuz I know I don't understand,_

 _Just how your love can do what no one else can_

 _Got me looking so crazy right now, your love's_

 _Got me looking so crazy right now (in love)_

 _Got me looking so crazy right now, your touch_

 _Got me looking so crazy right now (your touch)_

 _Got me hoping you'll page me right now, your kiss_

 _Got me hoping you'll save me right now_

 _Looking so crazy in love's_

 _When I talk to my friends so quietly,_

 _Who he think he is? Look at what you've done to me,_

 _Tennis shoes, don't even need to buy a new dress,_

 _You ain't here, ain't nobody else to impress,_

 _It's the way that you know what I thought I knew,_

 _It's the beat that my heart skips when I'm with you,_

 _But I still don't understand,_

 _Just how your love can do what no one else can._

* * *

It was a rather normal day at Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry.

Several hundred students were running in the halls to be able to get to class on time. The ghosts were trying to help students along by giving them shortcuts to be able to make it. At one place a Ravenclaw dropped his bag and all its content were spread all over the floor.

One first year Hufflepuff got her leg trapped in the trick step on one of the staircases, while a group of Slytherins were trapped on another staircase which was in a mischievous mode and decided to deliver them to a completely different floor.

All in all, a rather normal day.

One of the students however, was not feeling the normalcy of it all as his world was rather focused on one thing, and that definitely wasn't the thought of getting to class in time.

Draco Malfoy was sitting in an alcove just outside of the Transfiguration classroom wondering where his life was heading. The job the Dark Lord gave him seemed more and more impossible for every day. How in the hell was he supposed to both kill Dumbledore _and_ get the Death Eaters an entrance to the school? His hands were burrowed in his blonde hair, so hard he was almost ripping it from its roots. He was so lost in thought that he didn't even look up when a shadow stopped in front of him.

"Malfoy?", he had to look up when he heard that voice. It belonged to the bane of his existence, a certain golden boy-who-just-couldn't-leave-him-alone. When Draco's silver eyes met the amazingly green ones of the Gryffindor he couldn't help but get lost in the mass of emotions he found there. Potter really was so easy to read it was almost pathetic – if one knew where to look that is, and Draco knew. Oh, how he knew. He had been watching Potter from the first year and he found that he knew all about the Golden Boy.

Draco knew how Potter's brows furrowed in that particular way when he couldn't figure out a problem in class.

How his hair was even more unruly when there wasn't a wind in sight – not that Draco knew how that was even possible.

How he scrunched up his nose at the Weasel's pathetic attempt at eating, even though Potter never said a word about it.

How he had this annoying habit of pushing his glasses up with his finger every time Draco was just about to get a glimpse of the remarkably green eyes without any obstacles obscuring the color.

Draco fought his way out of his line of thought before Potter would comment on his staring. Draco reluctantly removed his eyes from Potter and looked at the floor as if it had all the solutions to his problems.

"What Potter? Can't find the way to the classroom on your own? Even I would think you had enough brains for that since you literally have to move down the end of this hall." He risked a look up at Potter and saw the familiar scowl reappear on Potter's face. It was the only facial expression Draco hadn't found a meaning for, yet. It was a new expression that only happened when Potter looked at Draco, and he couldn't, for the love of Merlin, figure out what it meant.

"Sure, just skip right back into your old insults Malfoy."

Oh Merlin, did Potter's voice always sound so deep and smooth up close? Who was Draco kidding, of course it did. If he closed his eyes and tried really hard he could almost imagine the rumble he would hear if he were to lay his head on Potter's chest. Shite, he really was pathetic and totally completely lost.

He tore his eyes open again just as Potter turned and walked away. Potter looked back over his shoulder with the familiar yet confusing scowl on his face. "I was just wondering if you were okay you git." He turned his face away again and hunched his muscular shoulders (not that Draco noticed the muscles of said shoulders at all – okay, maybe he did a little bit, but there's no harm in looking, right?), put his hand in his pockets and stomped towards the Transfiguration classroom.

Draco could almost feel the body heat of Potter leave his little alcove. He longed to call out for Potter. Oh, how he longed for it! He wasn't sure what he would say, but he'd give almost everything to have Potter hovering in front of him again. He almost felt like Potter's body heat could chase away the sickening cold he felt inside him all the time. To Draco, Potter's personality shone bright like a small sun, radiating the most amazing warmth that could warm even Draco's chilled bones. But as it was, the further away Potter moved the colder he got inside.

* * *

The next time they met one on one it was Potter's turn to sit in a lone place. If Draco should guess from the facial expressions of the Golden Boy, he was trying to figure out a particular difficult problem. Potter's brows were furrowed and his eyes staring at nothing in particular. Draco stopped before he got to close, just stopped and stared. He was taking a moment to himself to completely memorize Potter's face and body – not that it was anything new, he already had it all memorized.

Potter heaved a large sigh and bumped his head back against the wall multiple times with his eyes closed.

"Trying to rid yourself of the last of your useful brain cells Potter?" Draco said with that sneer that was almost permanent in his voice.

Draco couldn't help the small twitch the corners of his mouth made, when Potter tried to scramble to his feet fast. It was a rather amusing sight. Amusing – _not_ cute!

Potter got to his feet and tried to straighten out his clothes, not that it would do it any good with the state of distress his clothes was in.

When Potter raised both his hand to comb them through his unruly hair – there was no wind today, so of course it looked more uncontrollable than ever – Draco had to bite his tongue in order to stop the small sound escaping him. He had no idea what sound it was, but it sure as hell wasn't a whimper, or so he tried to convince himself. Malfoys don't whimper after all.

"Malfoy. What are you doing here?" Draco was convinced that the sound of insecurity he heard in Potter's voice was something he made up in his mind.

"None of your business Potter" Draco spat.

Then Potter's next action surprised him more than he would like. Potter simply shrugged and turned to walk away.

Draco wasn't ready for the warmth inside of him to disappear yet. That warmth he got whenever he was close to Potter – it really was all that was keeping him sane at this point.

"Potter!" He exclaimed while watching said man leave. "Potter!" He tried again. How dared the scar head to just leave like that! Didn't he know Draco wasn't finished with him yet?

"Potter! For the love of Merlin, don't you dare ignore me!" If there was a hint of desperation in Draco's voice at this point he made certain to ignore it.

Potter's back seemed to slump in what Draco could only guess was a sigh. When he turned around that scowl-which-has-yet-to-be-named was back on the dark-haired boy's face.

"What Malfoy? I don't fancy wasting my evening listening to your insults." The misery was quite obvious in his voice if one knew him just as well as Draco did.

A slightly panicky feeling started to erupt in Draco's chest. He had to find something to talk to Potter about so he wouldn't leave until Draco felt warm again.

On their own accord, Draco's hands found their way into his platinum hair messing up that perfect hairstyle he tried so hard to maintain.

"Why did you ask me if I was okay the other day?" Draco looked up to meet Potter's eyes while he could practically feel the confusion radiating of himself. Oh, how he hated to show a weaker side to Potter, but he would do just about anything to stay within reach of Potter, just to feel that warmth.

Potter seemed to ponder over this for a rather long while. Draco didn't mind the silence, he just tried to suck up the light and the warmth.

"I guess I was worried about you." Draco's eyes snapped open in confusion. He couldn't have heard that correctly. "You've been looking so down lately. You've lost weight and you just don't look the same way anymore." Potter blushed when his brain caught up to what he was saying.

Draco had to fight a smile. So, the scar head had been watching him too? He didn't know what he should feel, but decided to go with that small fluttering in his belly, since that one brought even more warmth to his chilled insides.

He tried, he really tried, to make his normal disdain clear in his voice. He really did, but it came out more of a soft whisper when he said: "You care about what happens to me?" Draco almost couldn't recognize his own voice. He had to keep his eyes on the floor, since he could feel them swelling with emotions he was nowhere near ready for Potter to see.

A soft sound of fabric shifting gave Draco the impression of the other man shrugging.

"Of course I do!" came the small whisper back.

Draco's head unwillingly snapped up and he couldn't stop his eyes from meeting Potter's. He could clearly detect the truthfulness in the other man's eyes.

Draco came to his senses and had to stop himself from making an even bigger fool of himself.

"I … I have to … go" his voice hadn't sounded so uncertain and stuttering since he had to explain to his father why he stole the broom when he was eight years old. That's when the lesson of 'Malfoys always shows confidence' was beaten into him.

Draco turned around and practically fled down the hall. If he wasn't raised the way he was, he would have been running right about now. Behind him he could hear Potter yelling his name two, now three times in a row, but that did nothing to stop him. He was mortified with the way he had been acting – not in any way proper for a Malfoy. But even as he climbed down the stairs he couldn't help but notice that the small fluttering in his stomach didn't disappear and this time the warmth stayed with him just a bit longer than normal.

* * *

Draco tried his best to avoid Potter after that incident. He didn't want to deal with the new fluttering in his stomach that appeared every time Potter came into his view, and he defiantly didn't want to deal with the way his heat skipped a beat when he was close to him. More than once Draco thought about going to Madam Pomfrey to get his heart checked out. This amount of skipping heartbeats couldn't be healthy after all.

When he was with his friends they still made jabs at Potter whenever they came by him, but for some reason Draco just couldn't find it within himself to participate the way he used to.

At nighttime, he was often prevented from sleeping by the myriad of thoughts in his head. It shamed him to admit that most of them was about Potter. His missions for Dark Lord was shoved in the background and that scared him more than he cared to think about.

One of the reoccurring thoughts was about what the hell Potter had done to him. It aggravated Draco that he couldn't even continue with his normal ways just because that sodding bastard admitted he cared about Draco.

In the deepest darkest place of his heart – the one that he only looked to when he felt all hope leave him in the darkest of the night – he could admit that he longed for someone to care about him. Not the Malfoy heir, or the Death Eater, the Prince of Slytherin, but Draco. The lost boy who used to love to fly. The boy who had an unhealthy obsession with dragons and wanted nothing more than to use all his inheritance to start up a reservation for them where he could get to observe and study them. The boy who used to love playing in the garden until he was told it wasn't proper to do. The boy that just wanted someone to care about him for him.

And sometimes, before he could stop himself, his mind made up images of what it would be like if Potter was that one person to care for Draco. How it would feel to be surrounded by the warmth all the time. Sometimes, just before he fell asleep, his brain would tell him: _That's what you want._ And the next day he would spend an enormous amount of time convincing himself that he _defiantly_ didn't want Potter to be that person – not that he ever succeeded completely.

He still kept on watching Potter though. It was a habit that was rather hard to break. That scowl was on the Golden Boy's face even more often than before. Draco found that he longed to smooth out the small wrinkles between the other man's brows.

Well overall, he found that he was maybe even more obsessed than before.

* * *

Draco was standing in one of the bathrooms on one of the many, many floors of the castle. He didn't care which one, or on which floor.  
He was breaking down. The panic threatened to close his chest. Despite the cold he felt in his heart he could feel droplets of sweat dripping down his back. He tried to remove his jumper to ease the claustrophobic feeling, but the only thing it did was mess up the rest of his clothes and his hair. Not that he cared at this point.

When he felt a scolding sense of wetness on his cheeks he tried to remove it with his hands only to find that it was his own tears. He was so cold all over that even his own tears felt like bits of boiling water on his face. He grasped the sides of the sink to prevent his legs from giving up on him, but he could still feel his knees shaking.

Oh, this was not happening to him. The pressure was finally getting to him and his traitorous mind kept replaying scenes of him failing and suffering the consequences at the wand point of the Dark Lord. He simply couldn't handle this any longer.

A strange sound found its way to his ears, and it took a while before he realized it was the sounds of his own sobs reflecting on the walls of the empty bathroom.

The sound of footsteps caused his body to turn towards the entrance to the bathroom. He hastily tried to swipe his tears from his cheeks, but it was no use since they just kept on flowing.

He had his wand raised and a curse was at the tip of his tongue when he saw who it was.

"Malfoy? What's wrong?". If Draco had any control over his voice at that moment he would have told the sodding bastard Potter was, to leave him the hell alone, but as it was not a sound escaped him but the sobs. He knew – he just knew – that he was supposed to curse the bastard and get himself together and finish his job, but for the love of Merlin he just couldn't.

Instead he felt his wand-arm lower and if he were to look at himself from the outside he would have seen the hopelessness eradiating from his eyes.

One second Potter was at the entrance and the next he was standing right in front of Draco.

Draco could feel warm and strong hands landing on his shoulders, and when he looked up he was met with the sight of Potter's green eyes. Eyes that shone with compassion and worry.

The sight was too much for Draco and since he wasn't holding on to the sink anymore he fell to his knees. Before he could hit the floor, he felt warm and amazingly strong arms circle his waist. Both men sank to the floor, but at a much more controlled pace. Somehow, he was places in Potter's lap and those warm and firm arms never left his waist. Draco could feel himself being rocked back and forth and somehow his head had landed on Potter's chest just below his collarbone. The sobs were now wreaking trough him and he could feel his entire body shaking in effort to keep breathing between the sobs.

Somewhere far away, or at least that what it sounded like to Draco, he could hear Potters voice.

"Shh. Shh. It's alright. I got you Draco. It's okay."

As if he was almost having an outer body experience Draco found that Potter's voice did indeed rumble through his chest in exactly the way Draco had imagined it. The next thing Draco's delirious mind caught up on was the fact that Potter called him by his first name, and damn that Golden Boy, because Draco didn't think he could ever go back to being called Malfoy once he heard his real name fall from those lips.

Suddenly Draco's voice started working again and a lot of nonsense came tumbling out of him. Most of it, Draco thought, sounded like "I can't do this. I can't do this. Please no. Please make it stop. Take it away. Take _me_ away."

After a while the sobs seemed to have gotten softer and Draco's mind seemed to be returning to normal.

For the first time, he really took notice of his surroundings, and it was actually quite a shock to find himself sitting in the lap of the dark-haired Gryffindor. Draco knew he had to get away from this embarrassing situation, but his body wouldn't comply. After several non-successful attempts at removing his person from the disconcerting position he decided to damn it all to hell and just enjoy the warmth he could feel slowly seeping into his body.

Potter, or Harry really – this situation seemed way to intimate for last name basis, was still spouting utter nonsense into Draco's ear, but he didn't really hear them. All he could focus on was the deep calming rumble of the other man's chest, and that strong heartbeat he could hear between the rumbles.  
Just for a little while Draco decided to simply close his eyes and enjoy the sensation of it all. Pott – Harry was still rocking him back and forth, and Draco's hiccupping breath seemed to settle a bit.

After a while the rocking stopped and he could feel Pott – Harry turn his head a bit.

"Are you okay now Draco?"

All Draco could do was to shake his head. "Just a bit longer. The cold is almost gone now." Draco knew that he was speaking nonsense but at this time he just didn't care.

He felt Harry's arms tighten around him as to shelter him from all the troubles in the world and the sigh that left Draco was so not intentional.

"Thank you" Draco's voice was so small that he doubted the Gryffindor heard him.

The rumble that escaped the sculpted chest he was resting on gave a confirmation that the other man heard him just fine.

"Do you want to talk about it?" The question was quiet, but each word seemed to penetrate Draco's little bubble of happiness. He began furiously shaking his head and his body started to tremble again.

"Okay. Alright. Please calm down Draco. Shh. It's alright. We won't talk about it."

Draco found it amazing how one little statement from this man could calm him down faster than any Calming Draught. His trembling became mere shivers after a few moments.

After what could have been hours, but didn't feel like long enough for Draco, Harry started to shift again. "We really have to get back. It's after curfew." Draco let a small whimper of dissatisfaction escape his lips. He really, really didn't want to go. When he would leave the safe haven of these strong arms he was sure that the entire world would come crashing down upon him.

He wasn't ready to leave the first peaceful place he had found in several months. If he snuggles a bit closer to that sculpted chest it really wasn't his fault at all. A low rumble, almost resembling a chuckle, could be heard from Draco's position.

Harry started to get up, but Draco just desperately clung the other man's robes.

"It's okay Draco. I got you."

And amazingly enough Harry kept his arms around Draco while they stumbled to their feet.

Draco reluctantly let go of Harry's robes. He could feel a blush creeping up on his face at the thought of what he just did. It was never his intentions for Harry to find him like this, and it embarrassed him to think about the breakdown he had in front of the Gryffindor. He turned away from his personal warmth generator and hung his head in shame.

"I'm sorry" he whispered.

The response came in form of a hand turning Draco towards Harry once more. Draco still stubbornly refused to look at the green eyes, afraid of the pity he would find there. He didn't think he could cope with that.

A warm and rather rough hand settled beneath his chin and forced him to meet Harry's eyes.

To the great relief of Draco, he couldn't find any pity in those eyes, only compassion.

"Hey. It's okay. It's going to be okay Draco"

Draco felt his tamper rise at that statement. How dare that scar face say that it was going to be okay? It most certainly wouldn't.

"No! No, it won't Potter. You have no idea what I'm struggling with! What he has made me do. What I'm supposed to …" Draco managed to stop his rambling before he would spill secrets that wasn't safe for him to spill. To his uttermost shame, he could feel the tears starting to form in his eyes again.

"Draco. Please calm down. Just breathe. I got you!" Harry said while pulling the slightly shorter boy in for a bone crushing hug. Even though the hug was so tight Draco should feel his bones complaining, he found that a hug that firm was actually putting the small pieces together instead.

That delirious brain of his made him think it was rather funny how something that was supposed to break you was actually keeping you together. Or maybe it was just these kinds of hugs that were that way? He really didn't know. He had never experienced a hug before – at least not one made from compassion.

"Talk to me _please_! Let me help you!" the emotions were almost visible in Harry's voice.

Draco felt his body shudder, but his brain kept saying: _Do it! What have you got to lose. Let him help you!_ Silently Draco cursed his brain for telling him these things.

Since this night was so crazy already, Draco thought he might convince himself that it was a dream, and in dreams you can tell someone anything, because it's just a dream. He found that the warmth seeping into him was almost enough to make him high on life, so he decided that Dark Lords and other dangerous people could dive into Merlin's bearded arse for all he cared. He wanted this warmth, and a way of keeping it closer was to tell the Gryffindor everything, so he did.

Through his tale of suffering and death he thought he felt Harry's hands at the base of his skull gently running through the hair there. Draco himself kept his arms firmly around the other man's waist. He wouldn't let him get farther away from his body. That it prevented Harry from looking at while he spoke was merely a side bonus.

When Draco was done, he could hear his voice had become rather rough, and he even had to clear his throat a couple of times – of course that had nothing to do with the moist gathering in his eyes.

Draco could feel Harry's hands moving from his neck to his cheeks. The thumbs on said hands were moving along his cheekbones to remove what was left of his tears.

"Please look at me Draco" Harry's soft voice was leaving a ghost of a sweet breath across Draco's face. He looked up into the blazing green eyes and felt himself get lost in them.

"It's going to be okay now! I got you, and I won't let anything happen to you alright?"  
All Draco could do was just to numbly nod his head. For some strange reason, he really did believe the words Harry said.

Then Draco was shocked at the Golden Boy's next move. Before Draco could even think about what was supposed to happen next, he felt firm, yet soft and oh so warm lips descend on his own.

At first his mind was completely blank and he couldn't understand what was happening. _He's kissing you, you daft boy_ his oh so helpful mind told him, and for a moment Draco didn't know what to do with that information.

Then Draco felt it. The warmth had fully enclosed him, and for the first time since forever he was completely warm all the way to the inner pieces of his heart.

He couldn't help the pleasure filled sigh that escaped him. He could now feel Harry kissing him even more enthusiastically as if Draco's sigh had spurred him on. Draco's arms seemed to have gained a life of their own and his hands were now moving up Harry's back until they reached that perfectly tousled hair.

Finally, Draco could get a first-hand experience of what it was like to slide his hands through that black hair, just like he dreamed about so many nights. Draco could almost hear his heart beating so strongly that he was slightly afraid it might burst, but since he was in this perfect blissful state of mind he found that he didn't really care if he died in this exact moment. He was the happiest he had ever been, and if that wasn't a good way to go, he didn't what would be.

As his lips was being molded by Harry, Draco let his tongue move against the Gryffindor's lips, asking silently for a permission to enter.

Harry's responding moan was almost too much for Draco, but he felt the lips part and when his tongue met the silky smoothness of the other man a similar moan escaped Draco.

In the back of his mind he registered that Harry tasted like treacle tart and pumpkin juice, and right them and there Draco decided that that was his new favorite taste.

When the need for air became too much for the two men, they reluctantly pulled apart. Harry's hands were still resting on Draco's cheeks, as they put their heads together. Their breaths mixed in the small space between them, and neither said anything for a good couple of minutes.

Harry was the first one to pull his head away and as he looked into Draco's eyes, Draco was now seeing a whole new emotion in there. He wasn't sure exactly what it was, but he hoped it was affection.

Harry removed his hands from Draco's face and turned around. A slight doubt was beginning to creep up on Draco, but before that feeling could root itself in his now warm heart, Harry looked over his shoulder and stretched out his hand.

"Come on Draco. Let's go get you out of this mess."  
The smile that erupted on Draco's face was the first real smile he had shown in many months.

As their fingers intertwined Draco was happy to notice that his own hands didn't feel so cold anymore.

Harry gave a little squeeze and looked at him with those amazingly green eyes once more.

"It's alright Draco. Remember, I got you!"

As Harry pulled Draco from the bathroom, Draco had a very peculiar realization. For the first time in forever he didn't feel scared. For the first time, he felt that he might actually have a chance.

For the first time, he truly believed that another person would help him without a personal gain.

For the first time, he felt that someone cared about him and him alone, and for the first time he was happy.


End file.
